Two weeks later, Osa's one-bedroom apartment had cardboard boxes teetering to the ceiling, their beaten surfaces casting long shadows over the scuffed hardwood. Dust and packing-tape tang hung in the air, overlaid by stale cigarette smoke clinging to grimy curtains.
The heat pressed against the cracked windowpanes. Osa eyed the thermostat warily—cranking the air conditioner meant a higher hydro bill. His landlord nickel-and-dimes him for every kilowatt.
He sighed, turned away from the thermostat, then answered the persistent knock.
Noah slipped inside before Osa could finish locking the door, sidestepping a stack of taped-shut crates. "Yo, why's the whole crib packed up?"
"The neighbours are clocking me hard right now," Osa said, his voice dropping to a tense whisper. "We shouldn't have dropped the product right out in the open."
"Man, I just need to sniff that white," Noah responded. "It hit the spot perfectly for me."
Osa exhaled a sharp, angry breath, slamming his hand down on one of the crates. "Yeah, well, if you kept your eyes on the street instead of staring at the bag like a fiend, you would've seen we were being watched. Now I gotta ghost this block and find a new crib."
"I got a crib you can take over. Just kicked a chick out for slipping on her hustle."
"Hell, no." Osa crossed his arms over his sweaty T-shirt. "You're the one who put me in this mess. Now I gotta bounce."
"I can patch you up. First month is on my dime." Noah grinned, stepping closer.
"Why you tryna hook me up?" Osa gritted his teeth.
Noah's grin didn't waver. He reached out, tapping the side of one of the remaining unsealed boxes. "Because your product is the cleanest I've ever tasted. It's premium, man. You're wasting your talent on this small-time operation. Work with me. I can get you bigger clients and more cash. Serious paper."
Osa shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. "Are you trying to get me locked up? I don't want a bigger operation. I only deal with regulars to keep the heat off. Regulars are safe and don't talk to the feds."
Leaning in, Noah's voice dropped. "Come on, man. I've got connections—cops, judges, fixers. Bribes smooth everything over. You'll walk away clean with just a slap on the wrist. Trust me—I know a spot in the city where we can keep this running without a hitch. No nosy neighbours putting eyes on your setup."
Osa didn't budge. He kept his arms crossed, his eyes drilling into Noah. "Are you giving me a real guarantee, or are you just painting a pretty picture?"
"Man, I locked this play down myself," Noah said, flashing a confident grin. "It's low-key, but the traffic never sleeps. The whole block is ice-cold—the perfect trap to run the package."
Osa stared at the piles of boxes, his pulse drumming in his ears. Exhaled. "Alright. One slip, one wrong look—and I'm a ghost. I see a single flash of blue on that block, and I'm pulling the plug. Understand?"
Noah's grin widened into a pact-sealed handshake. "Crystal. I'll help you get out of this joint."